Page 3 of Cakewalk
We stopped in front of the cake shop, and I pushed the door open. A little bell rang above us as we entered. Three small bistro tables lined one wall, while the left side had a red rug that led to the checkout counter. The display case was currently empty besides a few generic birthday cakes. Once my sister arrived, she would load it up with fresh cupcakes and cookies ahead of the morning rush.
I checked the cuckoo clock hanging on the wall. I had thirty minutes before then. Thirty minutes to “hide the evidence,” as the handsome stranger had put it.
Though there was no resurrecting that cake.
I pulled out a seat for him, only realizing then to ask, “What’s your name?”
He sat down. “Griffin.”
Of course he had a hot name. “I’m Jade.”
He frowned thoughtfully, then said, as if trying it out, “Jade. I like it. Simple. Beautiful. Pretty sure I’ll remember it despite the cranial injury.”
I laughed nervously. “Uh, let me grab the first aid kit and see how bad it is.”
Griffin nodded as I scurried off and dug through the cabinets for the kit. I really ought to know where it was by now.
“Cute place,” Griffin commented from his seat. “Quaint and charming.”
“Thanks!” I said, though I really had no business taking credit for it. “It was my grandparents’ place, then my parents’, but my mom really couldn’t keep up with it anymore, so my sister took over. Then I dropped out of college to come back and help.”
I finally found the kit, then grabbed a towel to clean the frosting off so I could get a better look. I hurried back over, my sneakers squeaking on the white tiled floor. “Do you mind if I sorta clean off your hair first?”
“Do as you must.”
I toweled off the pink frosting the best I could, then tentatively started parting his hair where the injury was. My heart pounded as I touched his thick, luscious hair, and I was half tempted to demand what shampoo this guy used. To my relief, the injury was more of a scrape than a gash, and it had already stopped bleeding. “Thank God,” I breathed. “It looks like you’ll live. Though, let me check one more thing…”
I had read somewhere that if someone had a really bad concussion, their pupils would be unevenly dilated. I stepped over in front of him and put a finger on his chin, lifting his face up so I could look him in the eyes. He stared back at me with those deep blue irises, and chills ran through my body as it felt like he was somehow peaking into my innermost thoughts. I took a step back, recovering. “Uh, yeah, looks like your pupils are pretty even.”
“Oh,” he said. “That’s why you were staring into my eyes? And here I thought we were having a moment.” He crossed his arms playfully.
I laughed a bit too loudly, then stepped behind him again, where I pinched my brow and commanded myself to chill out. Like I stood a chance anyway. There was no way this heartthrob would ever be speaking to me if I hadn’t assaulted him with a cake.
I was going to make sure he was medically sound, then he’d be off on his merry way and we’d probably never see each other again. It was silly to be getting even the slightest bit hot and bothered over him.
I returned my focus to the back of his head and soaked a cotton ball with hydrogen peroxide, then lightly dabbed the wound. He continued looking around at the folksy decorations and pictures that covered the walls as I worked on him. No doubt he noticed the black and white pictures of a bygone era. “How long has this shop been in your family?”
“Since the 50s. My grandparents started it back when Calhoon was booming. Now we’re… struggling, just like the town.” I blinked, realizing my eyes were suddenly a bit misty. I was thankful to be standing behind him, where he couldn’t see my face. “Anyway, what brings you to town so early in the morning? Did you have an appointment somewhere? You can use my phone to let them know you’re running late—”
He turned in the bistro chair, looking up at me with those lively eyes and curious smile. “Actually, I was just scoping the place out.”
“Like, to rob?”
He chuckled. “I’m not that down on my luck yet. Just looking for a place nearby to rent.”
I gasped, the wheels turning in my mind. “My sister’s been trying to sublet the apartment above the store!” I then looked over his expensive suit and pristine leather shoes—frosting notwithstanding. “Oh. But you were probably thinking of somewhere not so… shabby, huh?”
Griffin frowned up at me. “This place isn’t shabby.”
“The apartment above us sort of is. Never mind. I don’t think before I talk—or walk, apparently.” I laughed nervously again, hoping he wouldn’t think I was a complete nutcase.
He simply smiled. “I would love to see the apartment sometime. It’d be a very short commute to my work.”
I saw my first opportunity to get to the bottom of why a guy like him would be in a town like this. “Oh?” I started, my tone casual. “Where do you work?”
“Well, it’s a temporary office just down the road. I’m sure you’ve heard about the ocean front development, Marketplace Square?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah. Some big city fat cat thinks he’s gonna turn the place into a big attraction.”
